Passing
by insaneandproud
Summary: Jack's POV following Janet's demise


**Passing**

The empty glass hung loosely in his hand as he repeated the earlier conversation over and over again in his head. Her words had shocked him to the core; he'd never really known how much his death could have affected her. It wasn't pleasant feeling at all. He had wanted to kiss her… so badly… to shut away her pain for a while, he had been so close too. Stupid regulations! All he could do was hold her and help her calm down, her small sigh nearly crumbled any resistance he had against kissing her.

He grimaced as he leaned back into the sofa and a sharp jabbing pain ripped through his chest. His antibiotics sat untouched on the maple coffee table, he had no desire take any. He hadn't for ol' doctor Fraiser and he sure as hell wasn't for any small needle wielding Nazi… and as quickly as he remembered her name, the grief of her death washed over him like an unexpected wave. He missed her, more than he thought he would. A small smile crept into the corner of his mouth at the memory of the Napoleonic power-monger shining that damn pen light into his eye.

"_I ask you" he looks pointedly into the woman face, "what could possibly be in my eye that explains all this?!"_

He swears he saw her smile for a mille-second before her steel gaze had him sitting in (unknown to anyone else) in fear. It screamed 'I'm going to stick you with a needle in a minute and it's going to hurt!' The memory of Janet brought on a trail of though that'd he'd been trying to stem with whiskey since he'd got home.

Cassie...

Damn he hadn't wanted to think about the pain the girl was going through. He could imagine but he'd never really know. He wished she didn't have to go through that, he loved her like a daughter, hell he saw her as his daughter, and watching the expression of pure sorrow spread across her face as he picked her up and brought her with him to the cabin had been something he would never forget. She had run out of the truck as soon as it had stopped and disappeared into the garden somewhere. He had let her go, she needed her space, a chance to breathe and think away from everyone's constant apologies. She hadn't really spoken since the news, he hadn't expected her to, so when she had stated firmly that'd she was living between him and carter… he had merely nodded in agreement and continued driving.

He stiffened in surprised as two hands wrapped round his upper torso, yanking him unceremoniously from his thoughts. The glass slipped though his fingers and hit the floor as a warm breath blew gently across the back of his neck. A glimpse of honey blonde hair flashed in the corner of his eyes and he instantly relaxed back into the embrace.

"So much for my black-ops training" he mumbled softly.

The vibration of her soft chuckled hummed through his already hyper-sensitive body and he squirmed. He looked down at the shards of broken glass that had scattered across the hard oak floor. Jack gently pulled himself from her grasp and reluctantly stood up, making sure not to knock his injury he straightened up and headed towards the kitchen. He could feel Sam's crystal blue eyes following his jerky and hesitant movements across the room as he navigated his way across the glass strewn floor. Crashing and banging his way into the kitchen in search of that allusive broom feels her presence stop at the doorway before continuing down the hallway and out of his ear shot. Her frustrated sigh did not escape his notice but focusing his attention to the floor he set about sweeping up the debris to stop himself following her and doing something they'd both regret. He didn't know why but ever since he'd been hit by that staff-blast he'd been fining incredibly hard to restrain himself from jumping her bones, something he'd realised she was trying to do as well.

Ah crap… this wasn't good.

Clearing the last of the shards, he slowly made his way down the hallway in search of her. He hadn't needed to go far she was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, tears slowly sliding down her face as she finally succumbed to the grief of loosing your best friend. He merely slipped onto the bed next to her and stared up at the sunlight dancing against the white ceiling tiles.

He doesn't know how long they laid there. Nor does he remember what time Cassie slipped in between them clinging on to them as if they were her life line. Years later he'd realise that on some level they were, but in that moment all he could do was hold her lightly against him, igonoring the side slpitting pain that came from the simple gesture, as she cried herself to sleep. Turning to look at the older woman on his side and listening as she talked for hours. Remembering moments that had happened, moments that had yet to occur and moments they all secretly wished hadn't happneded at all.

The End


End file.
